


Maze

by Solanyxe



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanyxe/pseuds/Solanyxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season one, episode four.<br/>Haru is emoing his way through the encounter with Rin. I think this would probably be the most accurate summary. No new events, just musings.<br/>My darling helpfully provided another: "Haru is troubled over not understanding his first love."</p><p>Apologies for any mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maze

Haruka waits. Seconds trickle.  
Surprise already gave way to an anxious resistance, to a lump in his throat, to sparkles burning slowly in his stomach, and to his mouth closing in silent defiance. Involuntarily he is mirroring Rin.

It’s nothing, though. They’ve met accidentally. They’re both buying new swimming gear, that’s all. Reality recomposes itself, piece by piece, the store, the sounds, Haruka’s reason for coming here.

“Just fine,” Rin says at last. “Come with me for a bit.” He disappears back to his cabin again, and against his better judgment, Haruka retreats into his own, too.

Certain things don’t change. Rin’s confidence that Haruka would listen hasn’t changed. A trace of meekness in Rin’s voice that might lead to tears is familiar, too. They both remind Haruka that he shouldn’t get pulled into it. People are bothersome, _some_ more than others.  
Despite that he can feel the tension rise again from the awareness alone – Rin is here. Right here. 

His fingers don’t tremble, yet an odd excitement speeds up his hands, or perhaps it is irritation that does so, and he's dressing up too quickly, changing back into the old swimsuit and remembering only then that he isn’t going to swim with Rin. 

Not this time. 

Not at all.

Nothing good comes from getting involved with others, and Haruka committed his first mistake already years ago, when he agreed to the relay. That was the moment he has lost his freedom. Now whether he is content, sad, or carefully indifferent, there’s no changing that he’s tied to someone else. 

_What am I doing?_

His body feels as though he’s floating in water. He leans on the panel that separates the cabins. On the other side, there’s Rin. 

_What do you want? You lost and left in tears, you won and left in anger._

No answer, no sound comes from Rin’s cabin, only the noise of costumers outside. Nagisa’s voice is the loudest. 

Haruka takes his pants from the cloth pile and then puts them back.  
Only one thing he knows for certain: whatever he’ll do today, it will not set him free. Indeed, he’ll still remain trapped in that same maze with the same questions. He’ll still wonder what he should and shouldn’t have done. Each time the same logical answer comes to mind - he shouldn’t have done anything at all, he should have ignored Rin from the start - but the conclusion never makes him feel better. The conclusion hurts. The conclusion opens the door back inside the maze, repeating the first question and then the next and then another question again. 

_Why can’t I just swim? Why should I need anybody? Why can’t I be free?_

It’s bothersome. He swims now, but he still isn’t free. 

There is no way out. The maze stretches from one little thing to the other, covering the most mundane and the most sacred; cherry petals in an empty pool, every fence with trees, every butterfly in gentle flight, the dolphin toy without its twin, splashes of bathtub water that never break light into rainbows, unlocked front door that would see only neighbors, a phone that doesn’t ring, a phone without Rin’s number, a discarded trophy in safekeeping. Silly superstitions warm the heart: “Did you sneeze? Haru-chan, you know what that means? Rin-chan must be thinking of you.” 

Between Makoto, Nagisa, and the new guy, there were more people than Haruka ever wanted, and yet it was still one less than he needed.

Did he truly hope that if he stopped swimming like Rin, if he started swimming again like Rin, if he asked for a race like Rin did that one time, if he lost like Rin, if he did everything he wouldn’t otherwise, they would be together and swim like before?  
“Before” does not exist anymore. What is the point? 

_Rin could be waiting, maybe he’s already dressed._

Haruka reaches for his pants and shirt both, pulling them on with frantic motions, zipping, buttoning. He makes himself slow down again.  
Rin can wait. 

_But I can’t._

So annoying.

 

They exit at the same time. 

Rin looks around, makes to move, and for a second alone Haruka thinks Rin will pull him by the wrist, but instead Rin tucks his hands in his pockets.

“Follow me,” Rin says, a hint of uncertainty in his demanding tone.

He is like water now - water in a fish tank, water in a plastic basin, water in a fountain - closed off and unreachable even thought at arm’s length.  
Different, he is too different from the memories. Since his return from Australia, the change is palpable. Between Rin’s sullen glances and shallow, dismissing smirks, the air around him has grown heavy, and Rin’s every motion seems to speak the same words, “See? I don't care. See? I'm better. I’m not the same person anymore.”  
The change didn’t bother Haruka at first, because it had nothing to do with him. What Rin did outside the pool was unimportant, it didn’t matter, because if they both stepped into water, Rin would still be Rin, nothing could change that. Or so Haruka thought. 

 

Walking after Rin feels like walking after a mirage. They’re already outside. 

At the corner of his mind appears the thought that he left the others at the store. No matter. It’s not like they need him. 

Rin’s tense shoulders, hands still in pockets, his stride a bit too fast – it fills Haruka with uneasiness. He reminds himself that it’s pointless to ponder over what Rin does or doesn’t do. 

_I don’t care, either._

Yet something inside him moves in synchrony, following Rin’s rhythm. Step after step, breath after breath. Something makes Haruka cave in and then it makes him reach out. He merely follows, body before reason, just like he trails the presence of water. 

At the flicker in Rin’s eyes, now burning with a darkened flame, at the hint of his head and the sway of his hair, or at even the mere knowledge of Rin’s nearness - Rin’s back in Japan, Rin is in the same store - something inside Haruka wakes, ignores all common sense, and propels him forward, urges him to search again for what he once saw, to feel what he once felt, to catch the wistful, joyful thrill that dictates his very being. Water, the glimmer of water, and eyes half-opened in an easy smile. _“Nanase, swim with me.”_

As though they’ve become one inseparable entity, Rin and water, water and Rin, and one without the other cannot be, so one calls the other. 

Though that might not seem an embarrassing thing, it is, it is. There are things one cannot keep, and those who try will inevitably lose. It’s safer not to need and not to want.  
If only he could content himself with that.

Rin slows down. The air is warm, the sun is high. The trees behind the fence give enough shade, too much perhaps, for Haruka feels cold walls rise around him. 

_I don’t care. I only swim free._

He keeps walking. Why should he force himself to follow someone else’s pace? Soon he passes Rin and takes lead, yet when he hears the sound steps behind him die, Haruka stops without thinking. It’s irritating how one part of his heart belies the other. 

Not too far behind, Rin leans on the fence. “Haru,” he says and falls silent.

What now? 

_What do you want now, Rin?_

The scenery reminds him of one from the past; the fence, the tree, and Rin about to leave. A familiar bitterness creeps in, the feeling of betrayal, the desire to resist and retreat.  
Is Rin still the same as he was then?  
Although Rin wrote “For the team,” he was happy to leave to some faraway place where he'd swim alone. He’d have a pool for himself every day, so Haruka thought. Worse, even, Rin would swim with strangers. Every day in water, with other people who loved water. Meanwhile Haruka would be at home. Of course, there Rin would smile for them and make rainbows with splashes, and he'd follow them around until they'd swim for him. Until to them, too, water would feel strange, missing something without Rin.  
The solitary, perfect little world, carved with walls of water, was small and laughable in comparison.  
Rin was always ahead. Closer to water and farther away from Haruka...

“I must not lose,” thought Haruka at the time. He has never cared about times and victories, but ever since he has met Rin, he has felt like he might lose. The water has stopped being his alone. 

It was wrong to get involved in the first place. It’s childish to cling to anyone. It’s childish to cry.

_Why can’t I just swim?_

Water never leaves. Water never demands. Water doesn’t…didn’t hurt.

At one time, water was a place where nobody intruded, where Haruka was bound by nothing and connected to everything; just him and the water surrounding his body, embracing every inch of his skin. Everything and everyone else could be ignored and endured. Then, for a few months, water became a promise of warm joy, water meant the presence of someone who loved swimming as much as Haruka, it meant something new and exciting, fuller than the completeness Haruka had felt before. 

The next change came abruptly, without warning. It happened the day Rin cried after losing, avoided Haruka’s hand, and rushed to dress up without looking Haruka in the eye. The day Rin refused to stop though Haruka was running after him. The day Rin quit swimming.

The moment Rin withdrew his hand from Haruka’s desperate clutch - _I shouldn’t have reached out_ \- Haruka saw the distance between them for the very first time; it wasn’t the distance Haruka himself kept, unlike what he had thought until then. There was another distance between them, the one Rin was imposing. A distance Haruka had no means to cross. 

Until that moment he had believed that if Rin pushed everyone and everything away, he would not do so with Haruka. Not truly. Those were rules for other people. Not for water. _Not me, too._ In the water, they were close like nobody else. They were friends, they were…

It was an illusion. Not a wordless understanding between two who feel the same, but an illusion.  
The emotion that transferred from one to the other through the sprays of pool water, through their synchronized movements, through their frenzied heartbeats, it didn’t truly exist.  
Rin could leave Haruka easily, not the other way around. 

_Whether you want them or not, people leave. It’s foolish to cry._

Water also became different. Something that should be there wasn’t.  
Strangely the lights reflected on the surface were the same, equally inviting, the feeling of water on skin was identical, and the murmuring sound itself didn't change, either. Yet as Haruka jumped in, water did not speak like before, nor did it understand. It did not cover all senses and close the world from all other thoughts. It did not comfort. If it whispered, it whispered of tears and absence. It whispered of loneliness and guilt. 

_Because of me. Because of me Rin doesn’t swim._

As if Rin had taken with him the meaning out of the gliding wet caresses and out of floating free in nothingness, somehow it made no sense anymore. It seemed childish. Water was as unlimited and empty as ever, forever waiting to be touched, the water without Rin, and while before this meant freedom, suddenly it turned into a vastness without solace.  
Haruka thought that perhaps that was just what he deserved, or perhaps, in some twisted, unreasonable way they were still the same, he and Rin, living the same pain. They were together even if they wouldn't meet or speak ever again.  
That’s how it would probably be. They might never see each other again, never swim, never be alive. 

It didn’t seem possible to Haruka to live like that, far from a pool. Every bone in his body screamed that it was impossible. Yet if he gave up water, wouldn’t that be a sacrifice big enough to mend things, to make a miracle at least this time; wouldn't someone come and drag him out of the bathtub? Wouldn’t _Rin_ return and drag him to the pool? 

That kind of hopes were far too embarrassing to admit to anyone, himself included, so Haruka didn’t. Yet when day after day went by and Rin did not come, the most childish, trampled desires rose broken, divulging the secret that yes, he had been hoping.  
He still didn’t cry. He would never cry like Rin. He couldn’t, either. Not anymore.

It seemed impossible to live like a fish out of water. Yet Haruka did precisely that. Rin did it, too, after all. And the world did not change. Haruka gave his most precious thing away, and nothing changed. Not his duties, not Makoto and Nagisa, not the teachers, not the classes, and not the notebook in which he sometimes sketched. Not Rin. The empty space remained as Rin had left it. Nothing, nothing changed.  
A sad, deflated stubbornness made Haruka persist, and the race continued even without Rin. It became a challenge against a ghost from the past, a silent protest against the boy who had everything Haruka wanted, and threw it away. Rin could swim all day, yet he refused to, why?

_Because of me._

But what did I do? What should I have done? 

Would it be different if I had lost then? Does winning matter that much? Would then Rin be swimming still? Would he be swimming with me? I should have lost. I should have said no. 

I should have never given in.

No exit from the maze.

Between classes, the bathtub, and the insistence of friends, the pain turned dull, and somehow as it hurt a little less, water also shone a little less.  
Then at one point Haruka realized that it was not true, it was the other way around. Water itself wasn't any lesser in neither value nor allure, it was Haruka himself who was less now.  
He was growing up.  
This was how it felt to grow up. Growing up meant abandoning the childish heart for things more moderate, secure, and therefore drearier by a great deal.  
Finally he understood why adults seemed to care about nothing important in life and why they showed no sparks of joy. Why they showed interest in nothing.  
It was a natural progression.  
Eventually everyone would end there, tied in the pointless future that their parents lived before them. It was inevitable.  
Now if only life sped up, so that Haruka would be twenty already, so that he would be an adult, so that together with vanishing delight the pain would also disappear… Then nobody would look at him with expectation, nobody would push him to try, and nobody would be hurt or disappointed. Nobody would reprimand him or lure him into being less or more than he was. Being average was fine. It was comfortable. No pressure from people who each wanted something.

As long as there would be water…and in the end not even that would matter, because water did not speak like before. Plus, the bathtub did not feel as constricting anymore. It was enough. It was becoming normal. Not swimming was becoming normal. That Rin wouldn’t return – that was becoming normal, too.

Yet here he is now. 

Rin is here. 

Haruka waits, remaining at distance. 

“Haru,” says Rin. “What have you been doing for the last three years? This isn't like you.”

Wasn't Rin the first to say he’d quit? What right does he have to ask that?  
What does he expect to hear?  
_I stopped swimming because I thought you’d return for me?_  
It has nothing to do with him. Rin did everything as he pleased, be it leaving for Australia, or quitting everything. He wanted to be better, now he is, so what more does he need from Haruka?  
They've never felt the same. 

“I'm no match for a guy who returned from Australia,” Haruka says.

Rin narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” 

Of course he would say that. 

“I'm not,” says Haruka. “You won the last competition.”

_Isn’t that what you wanted?_

Instead, Rin’s words sound reproaching. “The way you are now, it was obvious that I'd win.”

“A victory is a victory. You won against me, isn't that good enough?” 

“It's not!” says Rin. “Let's compete properly again.” 

No end to the maze. Haruka feels his jaw harden in annoyance.

“Otherwise I cannot move on,” whispers Rin. 

Move on? What does that mean? Leave everything behind once again? Return to Australia?  
_Then move on alone and let me be._  
As expected, it was wrong to get involved in first place. 

_People leave whether you want them to or not. So who needs them?  
Water is enough. Water used to be enough. Why can’t I just swim?_

A realization wedges deep beneath Haruka’s ribs, a pain as unbearable as the ache of lungs about to burst in water. Still standing, he feels that his body drifts toward the dark pool floor. There is nothing in the water. Darkness and peace and no air. Only water. _I need nothing in the water. I cannot move on. I don’t want to. Let me be. Just let me be._

The need for air makes him want to move, though, to do something, leave while his expression is still intact. Rather than moving forward, it would be easier to remove everything, to return to what he was before, back when water was enough, when water was everything - that would be the best. 

_It’s stupid. I swim free. Free only. I don’t care about other things._

“How bothersome,” says Haruka. His voice remains level, nothing bleeds through. 

He starts walking away, likely in the wrong direction, but anywhere is fine. 

“I told you, didn't I?” he continues. “I swim only free. I don't swim for you.”

That’s all.

Again, something treacherous stirs in the depths of his heart, whispering that this way Rin won’t move forward either. Like Haruka he will be trapped. Why should only Rin be free? This way they’ll stay in the same maze. Together.

_No, it has nothing to do with me. I only swim for myself._

He feels a forceful tug at his shoulder. A tug and a whirl in which front and back, the ground and sky may be backwards and upside down, like the first splash that covers the entire body, the cold shock after the jump into the pool, but Haruka is still standing. 

It takes him moments to decipher what is happening. The fence holds his back, and it doesn’t hurt, but at the same time there is no way to retreat. He can’t move forward, either. Rin has always been insistent, but never like this… Never…

Rin is merely a breath away, with his feverish eyes boring into Haruka, with his arms stretching onto the fence at the sides of Haruka’s shoulders, closing the world, Rin is everywhere like water, covering all senses. 

“No,” Rin says, with heated, self-assured voice, stating instead of asking. “You will swim for me.”

How does he know? As if he sees inside Haruka's heart, past all the words and thoughts, even, into the most embarrassing truth that Haruka would either stop or start swimming for Rin.

How?

Haruka can barely draw the air into his chest.  
The smell of cut grass and spring budding into summer and the scent of Rin’s hair, clothes, and skin… He breathes in again. His pulse is drumming.

Swimming.  
Already appears the image of Rin’s body darting through water in the next lane, always at the edge of Haruka’s vision. They are chasing each other, keeping the same pace, feeling the same. The horizons open with new light, a glow on the rippling blue surface, the faint taste of chlorine on the lips, wrinkled finger pads after many laps, Rin’s arm around Haruka’s shoulders. Tired limbs willing to jump right back into the pool. Swimming. With Rin, for Rin. One more go. Just one more.

Haruka’s fingers play with the fence in search for support. If he moves just a little, he’ll touch Rin’s hands. If he leans forward for the tiniest amount, he’ll fall into Rin. Before, the distance between them also used to be narrow, as Rin was touching him casually and often, and it was embarrassing and comforting at the same time.

Haruka keeps his mouth close so the wrong words won’t fly out. It would be no good to let those words out. A maze without end.  
Yet he feels the desire to leap, to swim, to be one with water, to push forward. Swim with Rin again. 

And once again Rin will go somewhere else, leaving Haruka alone and powerless to change a single thing. 

_Whether you want them or not, people leave. Only water remains._

Just one more go. Once more with Rin.

“Then if that's so,” says Haruka, “promise me one thing.” He touches Rin's arm and strengthens the grip slowly. It’s the same as swimming, the rush of power, the same desire. To be one with everything, to be bound by nothing. To move, to open the water, and to carve the next stroke. To feel. To be free. 

“Even if you lose to me, don't say stuff like you'll quit swimming.” He forces a step forward, into Rin’s space. The confused, powerless look on Rin's face reassures him. Haruka moves forward easily like pushing away water, and Rin moves with him, retreating, step after step, like water gives way to the one who understands it.

“Don't show me such pathetic a sight,” says Haruka. It doesn’t cross his mind to let go of Rin’s wrist. The nearness is of his own choice. The water is his domain. Therefore Rin is in his domain. Rin is his domain.  
_If I’ll swim on your terms, you’ll swim on mine. I’ll follow your demands, and you’ll follow mine._  
There are no more doubts. This feeling is enough, this certainty, this warmth from skin to skin. Everything Haruka wanted is in his palm. Water still belongs to him, and this heat likewise. They will swim together. The world can disappear. He won’t let go. Not until Rin replies. Not until they’ll be as they used to be.

“Even if you lose, don't cry,” Haruka says.

 _Don’t cry because I don’t know what to do. Don’t cry because I cannot cross the distance. Do not leave again._

Rin’s expression changes. His eyes widen as in an open, wounded surprise, and again they narrow.  
He tears his hand out of Haruka’s clasp, and steps back.  
“I'm not the same as I was back then,” Rin says, his gaze guarded and hard, as if Haruka is someone to crush and beat and nothing more. “This time I'll show you clearly what the difference between me and you is.” 

Haruka keeps his silence. It’s irritating. The person who touches Haruka so easily would not let himself be touched. The one who demands would not listen. He’d break Haruka’s defenses but keep his own. It’s not the first time. They’ve never felt the same. 

Rin turns away. He heads back toward the store at a slow pace.

_Running away again._

Like the figure that was leaving, running down the corridor in sobs after shaking Haruka off. 

“Build your muscles up before the prefectural tournament,” says Rin. “We'll race there.” 

Like then, he does not turn back.

“Let's meet at the tournament,” Rin finally says as a goodbye.

Nothing good comes from getting involved with others, and Haruka committed his first mistake already years ago, when he agreed to the relay. That was the moment he has lost his freedom. Now whether he is content, sad, or carefully indifferent, there’s no changing that he’s tied to someone else. 

Even if he’ll ever gather his strength to run forward and call for Rin again, he will probably still not muster the courage to reach out his arm and touch Rin’s hand. 

How to reach out when Rin will retreat? How to run after someone who wishes to move on?

_Whether you want them or not, people leave._

It was wrong to get involved in first place. Only water remains.

Now it is too late, and Haruka doesn’t know, he doesn’t know how to face Rin anymore, how to keep Rin by his side.

He doesn’t know.

Thus he stands alone under the summery sun, with the growing irritation and the helpless wish to catch something that cannot be caught. 

_When we meet at the tournament, will things be like before? If I work out and face you properly, will it be like before? Will you look at me like you used to? Will I be free?_

No exit from the maze.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this reminded me of one thing. I find it funny how...unrefined Rin's speech is.  
> Maybe the years abroad helped with that (and the other reason is surely his "I'll pretend I'm too cool and manly for y'all" attitude). I wonder if Rin is having any troubles with kanji after returning to Japan and if now he finds some Japanese customs alien just like the Australian were at first. It wouldn't be surprising if he doesn't feel at home neither in Australia nor Japan by now. I'm speaking of the first season, at least. He could be thinking of himself as the odd piece that doesn't fit anywhere, so he just keeps to himself. After all, he doesn't have any friends whatsoever until he joins the swimming club at Samezuka and gains his personal fanboy to pester/support him. The anime never deals with those aspects (and I'm guessing in S2 it won't, either, as Rin's main conflict is solved). Also, if his school subjects include kobun (which they should), I really want to know how he lives through the classes without wanting to strangle himself. XD


End file.
